


chasing the sun

by spookyfoot



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Age Swap, Alternate Universe, M/M, Pre-Relationship, galaxy garrison cryptid keith, hot older mentor keith who just wants to fly, pre-kerberos
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-01
Updated: 2019-03-01
Packaged: 2019-11-07 09:05:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17957642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spookyfoot/pseuds/spookyfoot
Summary: Officer Keith Kogane pays a visit to Shiro's class and changes the course of his life.Or: an age swap au.Keith laughs. It’s a sharp, musical, exhale of three ascending notes. “Thanks for the concern, Shirogane, but I don’t do anything I don’t want to.”  He pauses and gives Shiro an appraising look, “and from what I’ve heard, you’re way ahead of the rest of your class.”“Oh. Uh, thanks. Adam Westbrook is pretty good, too.”“I’m sure he is—but I’m not interested in pretty good.”





	chasing the sun

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cainhurst](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cainhurst/gifts).



> HAPPY BIRTHDAY SHIRO, ENJOY THIS VERSION OF U WHO HAS A HOT OLDER MENTOR

"Class we have a very special guest today,” Ms. Zircher says from the front of the room. There’s no one standing beside her. A few of Shiro’s classmates break into muffled laughter. She turns toward the door, frowning, “or we should.”

There’s a few moments where the entire class stares at the empty doorway, like determination alone will force someone through it.

“Sorry I’m late,” someone says. The voice is low and raspy, but it curls around Shiro’s ears like campfire smoke; warm and comforting somehow even as it constantly eludes his grasp. A man shrugs through the door, long and wiry. His hands are buried deep in his pockets and his face is camouflaged by the mess of hair that's fallen out of his ponytail and into his eyes. If they’re supposed to have a visitor from the Garrison, this guy sure as hell doesn’t look anything like an officer. But he’s got Shiro’s attention on a hook, ready to be reeled in.

Ms. Zircher looks at him, at a loss.

The man frowns and pulls out a crumpled and well creased piece of paper from his pocket. “This is 204? Zircher?”

“Yes, that’s me.”

The man’s face settles into something unreadable. “Right. Lieutenant Griffin is sick so the Garrison sent me instead,” he says, hands stuffed back into his pockets. He turning halfway toward the class, combining two introductions in one. “I’m Lieutenant Kogane, and I’m here to talk to you about the Galaxy Garrison.”

_______________________________________

Keith Kogane is the Garrison’s best pilot. He the best the world has ever seen, though actually _seeing_ him is up for debate. There are press photos, sure, and you can’t actually get to space without a pilot, but Kogane is notorious for both his unbeatable sim scores and the fact that he refuses any and all interviews and public appearances. People _at_ the Galaxy Garrison swear up and down that they’ve never seen him and when questioned, the other fighter pilots in his class year go stone faced and answer any question with a flat “he exists,” and nothing else. It hasn’t done much to convince the public that Keith Kogane is anything more than the holoshopped face of an AI the Garrison is intent on keeping a secret.

Keith Kogane is a mystery wrapped in an enigma wrapped in a leather jacket. He wears his hair in a low ponytail tied at the base of his neck and he doesn't look like anyone's golden boy. He looks challenging and dangerous and like he knows how to push the needle of a hoverbike past max speed. He looks like someone who told the Galaxy Garrison to go fuck themselves in the same breath as _you can't do it without me._ He's at the front of the class, hands still buried in his pockets, looking like he wants to be anywhere else in the world, and talking about some sort of simulator. A simulator that Shiro's sure he won't be allowed to fly because his teacher knows about his diagnosis and _he_ knows that in her eyes that he might as well be made of glass.

He hates it. It's a chronic illness, it's not _fragile, handle with care._ Shiro's not going to break or break down immediately. The effects of his disease are an oncoming storm and it’s still far enough away from him to count the claps of thunder to measure the distance—he's not going to let people deny him what he wants before it's even arrived. He's still figuring out the best way to go about it, how to be better than anyone else even though they've written him off.

The class streams outside into the school’s fenced in yard, lit up in weak winter sunlight. Shiro watches from the sidelines as his classmates try their luck at the simulator one by one. There are a few who get to level three, but most don’t get past level one and Shiro's been watching out of the corner of his eye, assessing where his classmates went wrong. He always seems to see it a split second before they do and by then it's too late, they're already splattered against the side of a virtual asteroid or in scattered in pieces over the surface of a distant moon.

He watches another classmate last all of five seconds before plunging back to the white concrete floor of the virtual mission control base and bursting into flames.

Another student takes their place at the controls but the results aren't much different.

Then there's a low, raspy voice and the gentle pressure of a warm hand resting on his shoulder.

“Hey, wanna give it a shot?”

Shiro turns back, looks down a little so he can stare Kogane right in the eyes. Some of his hair’s escaped, pulling free from his hair tie to fall around his face. He looks a little younger like this, but the thing that catches Shiro’s attention is that there's no pity in his eyes.

It's the first time in the last few weeks that anyone's asked Shiro what he wants, and made him feel like it matters.

“Yeah, I do.”

It's not a smile so much as a curl at the corner of his mouth but it still makes Shiro’s heart beat a little faster.

He tells himself it's just because he wants to prove to Kogane—to everyone—that he can do this. That he deserves their awe instead of pity.

“Alright, then you're up.”

Later, Shiro’s memory of the trek over to the sim will be a blur but every second of the sim holds fast in pristine detail.

There’s the disbelief of his classmates, the rush of weaving his way through the asteroid belt, the lilt in Kogane’s voice when he said he didn’t need a list, he knew who he was recommending.

Kogane had left his card with Shiro, giving a small nod and a half wave before swinging his leg over the side of his cherry red hoverbike and speeding off like he was trying to break the sound barrier.

_______________________________________

Shiro carries the crumpled and creased scrap of paper in his pocket the whole way home. There's an ember of hope burning behind his sternum, that's he's trying not to make himself snuff out. It's the first time since his diagnosis that someone else has seen the future he wants for himself—seen it, and seen that Shiro can do it.

_______________________________________

 

“No, Takashi.”

“I can do this,” Shiro says. His fingers curl around the edges of the admission paperwork, creasing it. He’s had this argument his grandparents a million times over a million different things but this is the one that matters the most to him. This is the one that has his dreams on the dotted line. “Just. Call him,” Shiro says. He hands over a piece of paper with Kogane’s number on it, saving the card for himself like a good luck charm and a reminder.

His grandfather frowns but he takes the paper into his study and closes the door.

Shiro never finds out what Kogane said to him, but thirty minutes later his grandfather emerges from his study, signed paperwork in hand.

_______________________________________

Two weeks before he’s set to leave for the Garrison, bags already three quarters packed, Shiro goes to the doctor and returns home with a slim band around his wrist, a new app on his data pad, and more time on his ticking clock.

_______________________________________

 

The Garrison is loud and strict and Shiro scrambles to learn all of the rules as fast as he can. Some of them go better than others. Despite that, Shiro's already found himself singled out for demonstrations and by his peers, but not for the reasons he expects. No one calls him weak or questions his abilities because no one here aside from Griffin and Kogane know about Shiro’s disease. And he’s going to keep it that way. Griffin’s got better things to do that fraternize with a first year cadet unlike Kogane (his words, not Shiro’s) and Shiro doesn’t think Kogane will spill, either.

He’s safe for now.

The first week of class passes in a blur. There are new names and faces to remember and some of his classmates already know each other from their previous schools. Shiro doesn’t know anyone except Kogane and he’s been scarce. Though scarce is putting it kindly, Kogane’s more like a ghost, haunting the top of the flight sim leaderboard without ever bothering to put in an appearance. Shiro hasn’t even seen him in the mess hall. Either he keeps completely different hours or he isn’t interested in any of the officers at all. Or both.

Shiro tells himself that he shouldn’t look. That it’s not his business how Kogane spends his time; he’s already done Shiro the biggest favor of his life, the least Shiro can do is respect his privacy. Shiro’s acutely aware of what it feels like to have something hanging over your head, he’s not going to do that to someone else.

Two weeks pass, and Shiro starts adjusting. He’s paired with two other cadets Adam and Matt, to work on hypothetical flight scenarios. The Garrison wants them to learn the principles of flight before they’ll let them lay a finger on a plane. Adam’s smart, soft voice hiding the steel core that lies beneath; Matt’s even smarter, a mess of burnished gold hair and good humor. By the end of the week, Shiro feels like he’s made his first friends.

“I can’t believe we have another essay due this week. And on such basic stuff, too,” Matt says, plunking his tray down at the center of their usual table. Adam and Shiro take seats across from him.

“It’s not basic for everyone, Matt. Not all of us have an astronaut as their dad,” Shiro says. And the first time he’d met Commander Holt, he’d been more than a little starstruck.

“Sure. Come at me with logic. Incredibly unfair, I’m calling a foul.”  

“My deepest apologies,” Shiro says.

“Thank you,” Matt sniffs. “I accept. But you’re on probation.”

“Speaking of unfair,” Adam says. “Did you see Kogane’s scores on the sim board? They’re _unreal_. Inhuman. How the hell are we supposed to beat those?”

Shiro shrugs. “We’re not. No one was supposed to be able to beat Griffin and then Kogane blew his scores out of the water. No one expects us to one up Kogane, especially not after that.” That doesn’t mean Shiro’s not going to push himself as much as he can to get within striking distance.

“Are we sure he’s even real? I mean, I’ve seen press photos, but he’s _never_ around. I see Griffin all the time but Kogane might as well be a ghost,” Adam says.

Shiro can’t argue with that. Three weeks and he hasn’t seen Kogane _anywhere_. It’s almost like he visited Shiro’s school, talked to his grandfather, and then, with his mission accomplished, simply stopped existing at all.

“Oh, he’s real,” Matt says. “We’ve had him over for dinner.”

Adam shrugs, “hologram? I don’t know—for someone who’s supposed to be the Garrison’s best pilot, and has the scores to prove it, you think he’d show his face once and a while.”

“Maybe he doesn’t like the attention, he seems pretty quite to me,” Shiro says absently. Kogane hadn’t dressed quiet but they way his hair fell in his eyes, his clear discomfort at speaking to a class of prospective recruits, it all spoke to someone who was used to being good at their job and used to being good at staying out of the public eye.

Matt squints, “what do you mean _seems pretty quiet_?”

“He was quiet,” Shiro shrugs. He’s starting to see what a mistake he’s made bringing this up.

“He was quiet _when?_ ” Matt asks and, yeah, he’s not letting this go. Really, Shiro should have known better.

“When he came to my school,” Shiro says, which of course, is when the entire cafeteria chooses to fall silent.

“Wait, go back one second,” Adam says. “He came to your school?’

Shiro cringes a little. “Yeah. He recruited me.”

“ _What?”_

_______________________________________

There are new waves of whispers rippling out around Shiro whenever he steps into a room. Thompson pulls him aside as soon as he steps into introductory astrophysics the next day.

“So what's Kogane like?” He asks. Shiro appreciates the lack of pretense. It's an equal mix of curiosity and envy and all Shiro can think is that neither of them are welcome—maybe he's selfish, refusing to share any intel on the Garrison’s resident cryptid, but if Shiro's honest with himself, he doesn't really care.

“About what you'd expect,”  Shiro says. From the way Thompson flushes across the bridge of his nose, Shiro can tell that it's not the answer he wants to hear but it's the only one that he's willing to give.

“None of us know what to expect, dude’s like a ghost with a press photo.”

Shiro shrugs. He's here to be the best, not to be anyone's one way pass to Kogane. And besides—“I don't know what to tell you. I only met him once—we didn't spend much time together.”

“More time than anyone else gets,” Thompson says.

But Shiro's not breaking. He puts it off until class starts and then stays late talking to Montgomery, even though he notices Thompson waiting to corner him out of the corner of his eye.

 _It'll get better_ , Shiro tells himself.

It does and it doesn't.

It's not like people stop asking it's just that, eventually, they realize the only place their questions are going to get them is a dead end. Their faces grow more and more resigned each time Shiro heads them off at the pass, getting better and better and denying them answers before they even have a chance to get the question out.

There are other stories, other scandals to move onto, but Shiro still feels like his classmates are holding their breath, waiting for him to break.

Shiro is just waiting for Kogane to approach him again, to show Shiro he even remembers he's there.

_______________________________________

He doesn’t.

_______________________________________

It’s their first day of practical flight class and Commander Iverson’s bought Lieutenant Griffin in to give a demonstration. He stands at the front of the class, proud, shoulders square, surveying the class as though there were a set of challenges designed specifically for him.

“I’m sure you’ve all seen Lieutenant Griffin around the Garrison,” Iverson says. “Maybe you’ve seen him on our recruitment posters, maybe he even came to your school. The short of it is that Griffin is one of the Garrison’s best pilots, and he’s here to give you a little lesson in what real flying looks like.”

Shiro sees Griffin’s little flinch at “one of the Garrison’s best,” but his face stays impassive, hands knotted together behind his back.

Three heads away, Gallagher raises her hand. “Sorry, sir, but wouldn’t it be beneficial to have Lieutenant Kogane here as well. I’ve heard he and Lieutenant Griffin have very different flying styles.”

Iverson frowns, brows drawing together. “Lieutenant Griffin is exceptional at textbook execution of flight maneuvers. Meanwhile, Lieutenant Kogane is an unorthodox flyer, with a style I don’t expect anyone could replicate. We don’t have him do demonstrations for that reason.”

A wave of murmurs ripples through the class at that. Lieutenant Griffin’s lips are pulling at the edges, like he’s fighting to keep his face from giving anything away. The fact that he has to to fight an expression says it all, though.

“Not really doing anything to convince us Kogane’s real,” Thompson mutters. There’s a swell of whispers at that, mostly people agreeing with him.

“Attention, Cadets,” Iverson barks and the entire audience brings themselves into salutes. “Lieutenant Griffin has graciously gifted you his time. The least you can do is give him your full attention.”

A hush falls over the class, and Griffin takes his place in the sim, adjusting his flight suit and strapping himself in as the course begins.

There are several large screens on either side of the sim, projecting what Griffins sees as he sees it. It’s a selling point for the Garrison pilot program—cadets can experience a top pilot’s reactions to the course and its obstacles in real time, and test it against their own.

Griffin makes neat, precise passes through the course. They’re sharp, calculated, and exactly what the Garrison wants from them. Griffin is an impressive flier, it’s true, he’s got an incredible ability to survey the obstacles around his ship and react at lightning speed. But where there’s skill there are no surprises and Shiro finds himself thinking about how Griffin didn’t really have to go through that pass, that he could have cut above and around it and saved himself the trouble and time. That he could have found a more creative solution.

The class applauds as Griffin brings his ship to a halt at the virtual space station. Shiro joins in, although he’s still running over that last route in his mind, veering through the detours and short cuts he noticed but that Griffin didn’t take.

“Now, Lieutenant Griffin will talk you through his decision makin—”

At the back of the hall, one of the doors squeaks open. It’s a slow, humiliating sort of creak, the kind that implies the Garrison keeps the doors unoiled so that all late-comers will be forced to announce their presence.

“Hope you didn’t start without me,” a familiar voice says.

“Class started thirty minutes ago, Lieutenant Kogane,” Iverson says through gritted teeth. Even from here, Shiro can see one of the veins on his forehead making a bid for attention. “We weren’t expecting you.”

“That’s a shame,” Kogane says, heading toward the simulator with single minded purpose, “I was told that there was supposed to be a demonstration from the Garrison’s top pilot today, and seeing as that’s me, I’m not sure how you could have started already.”

Shiro’s sure that more than a few jaws dropped at that proclamation but he can’t tear his eyes away from Kogane. Kogane hasn't looked at him—or acknowledged him at all—but somehow, him showing up here, in Shiro’s class of all places, feels like a personal sort of challenge. Like Kogane’s put his fingers beneath Shiro’s chin, tilted his head up and said _hey, watch this._

And there’s nothing else Shiro wants to watch.

Shiro’s peers aren’t even pretending to pay attention or keep quiet, their half-hushed conversations are little below normal speaking volume now and Shiro’s sure he’s heard more than a few “see, told you he’s real”’s among them.

Kogane’s wearing his officer greys, collar unbuttoned. He’s not sure how Kogane managed it, getting from wherever he started to the sim room without getting written up for a uniform violation but there’s something challenging about the vulnerable hollow of this throat, like he knows that there are any number of people gunning for him but that he’s so confident about his position that he has no worries about any of them posing a threat.

Shiro wants to though. He wants to be the one who makes Kogane look over his shoulder to see who's catching up; wants to make him break a sweat.

Kogane’s fingers deftly undo the buttons of his jacket, revealing a flight suit underneath. He shucks off his pants with a similar carelessness, only pausing to pick them up from the floor and bundle them in his arms.

“Hold onto these for me, Griffin,” Kogane says, shoving the bundle of clothing into Griffin’s arms. Griffin flushes, the rest of the class breaks into a new flurry of whispers, and Shiro’s finally understanding why the Garrison never asks Kogane to do any demonstrations.

Kogane straps himself into the pilots seat, running through the initial systems check with graceful certainty. Then the simulation starts and he’s off.

**Author's Note:**

> [ tumblr](http://spookyfoot.tumblr.com) // [ twitter](http://twitter.com/spooky_foot).
> 
> many many thanks to lorna for beta-ing and also cheering me on


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